tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41850055053079868622017-08-16T06:40:45.912-07:00*Evorama*Evelyn + Jake = CarterEvelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.comBlogger87125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-63728475918849415942011-07-10T15:50:00.001-07:002011-07-10T16:02:57.568-07:00OOPS.....<img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-n5c0_Epzt_Q/ThotEVN_r6I/AAAAAAAAAi0/GcYEyAImF2I/s320/familypic.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627860236791426978" />So....it's been a few minutes since I've blogged. Oops. I think I got sidetracked. I really thought about giving up all together for a minute, but realized my last post to be forever imprinted on everyone's memory would be about pooping. Is that what I want to be remembered for??<div><br /></div><div>Maybe, a little. But first remember for my amazing, smelly, good-looking family as pictured above. Our little dude is getting CUTER. How is it that he came from... me?! No one will ever know.</div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-no8oeW0QkKw/ThouC_gsBFI/AAAAAAAAAjM/1TTRY38bYf8/s1600/IMG_2743.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-no8oeW0QkKw/ThouC_gsBFI/AAAAAAAAAjM/1TTRY38bYf8/s320/IMG_2743.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627861313296008274" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; ">We've also been a very, very busy Heaton household. Here a few things you missed:</span></a><div>One, we moved. We live in a HOUSE! I LOVE IT!! I can go number two in three different toilets!</div><div>Two, our first vacation since BEFORE Carter. Jake and I went to Vegas, baby, with our friends where we were the classiest people to ever meet Dick Butkus. True story. I also sinned and won 100 sin-ful dollars off of one dollar in a slot machine. I bought pancakes.</div><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-joaI3eGbIP8/ThotEhlBoFI/AAAAAAAAAi8/KcYGkBe4ZAk/s1600/vegas.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-joaI3eGbIP8/ThotEhlBoFI/AAAAAAAAAi8/KcYGkBe4ZAk/s320/vegas.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5627860240109248594" /></a>THREE - Back to school. I'm in both UVU and USU for all the pre-requisites for USU's school counseling masters program. Ahh, scary. Jake made me do it.</div><div>FOUR - Dude is getting so funny. He is talking now and his favorites words consist of 'poop', 'bum', 'turtle' and 'spandex.' WHERE did he get these from?!!</div><div>FIVE - Jake now drives a Harley. Saddest story in the world. I plan to make him repent of his evil Harley ways. I would prefer he drive a segway.</div><div>SIX - I turned... gulp... twenty-nine. It will be the last birthday I will EVER have. Twenty-nine forever, baby.</div><div>SEVEN - Nothing else, but this is my favorite number.</div><div><br /></div><div>So if anyone is even left that happens to come across this blog, I promise to get back into blogging and talk less about poop. But I probably just lied about the poop part.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-63579606495869312902011-01-09T15:57:00.000-08:002011-01-09T16:09:22.677-08:00Pooping Sounds<div>Okay, you crazy three ladies that still read my blog...or just stare at it because you've lost your minds AND your pants.... we've been busy here at the Heatons.</div><div>We had an awesome Christmas with a sometimes-Satanic-little child. He went a little crazy.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TSpMc4GfpwI/AAAAAAAAAik/IEvv6BC17oc/s1600/IMG_2696.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TSpMc4GfpwI/AAAAAAAAAik/IEvv6BC17oc/s320/IMG_2696.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560340748921972482" /></a>Carter has gotten even more crazy with all his toddler shennanigans. When he isn't busy drinking toilet water (yep, still obsessed with that thing), throwing balls at our heads, unlocking the front door and running half naked outside (or is that Jake?), screaming 'HAYY DUDE!!!', he is pooping. He has started his own cult... of pooping sounds. Geez, people, what is wrong with boys and all this number two business? I swear the kid goes 18 times per day.<div>He has been eating us out of house and home and we go through several thousand diapers per week. Good thing Jake got a new job after his company closed in November. We can afford more diapers....and tranquilizer... I mean... vegetables.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TSpMcoufJxI/AAAAAAAAAic/y4R0YT-Cxzk/s1600/IMG_2688.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TSpMcoufJxI/AAAAAAAAAic/y4R0YT-Cxzk/s320/IMG_2688.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560340744794744594" /></a>Oh yeah. And before all that happened, Carter turned one. He even had an awesome Pirate Party that I never posted about. Must be all that tranquilizer.... I mean...vegetables.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TSpMcPiwI5I/AAAAAAAAAiU/O15SQn2u3Ak/s320/IMG_2656.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560340738034639762" /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TSpMb7rITmI/AAAAAAAAAiM/vMrvi3yKPGk/s1600/IMG_2649.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TSpMb7rITmI/AAAAAAAAAiM/vMrvi3yKPGk/s320/IMG_2649.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560340732701068898" /></a>Things are luckily looking a LOT better this rocking 2011. Jake starts an awesome new position tomorrow, I'm back in school with my Justin Bieber notebook, I love my job, I love my boys, I love my friends, I love deodorant...and I've got a poopy diaper to change.</div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-54222537609052844252010-12-08T12:43:00.000-08:002010-12-08T12:45:38.738-08:00Forts Rule<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TP_uJsp8NNI/AAAAAAAAAiA/6qFm1gZUpk0/s1600/fort2.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548415116317045970" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TP_uJsp8NNI/AAAAAAAAAiA/6qFm1gZUpk0/s320/fort2.bmp" border="0" /></a> It's been a hard, hard month. So, in the interest of all things happy, I am here to post something astounding, thought-provoking, and inspirational.<br /><br />Forts rule. Boys drool.<br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TP_uJVvKXPI/AAAAAAAAAh4/WYGaG83pw8g/s1600/fort1.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548415110164929778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TP_uJVvKXPI/AAAAAAAAAh4/WYGaG83pw8g/s320/fort1.bmp" border="0" /></a> Happy December Everybody!<br /><div></div></div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-92145778004767401902010-11-03T12:20:00.000-07:002010-11-03T12:21:57.461-07:00Face LeprosySo I know I’m way behind on pictures. Couldn’t help but post this one to keep you all guessing, and peeing in your pants for those yet to come.Hope you all had a Happy Halloween. The ninja Chuck Norris and his little monkey sure did have a good one.<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TNG2Cue8h3I/AAAAAAAAAhg/6TZMhraBrEg/s1600/chuck.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5535405574968870770" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 241px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TNG2Cue8h3I/AAAAAAAAAhg/6TZMhraBrEg/s320/chuck.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I wore this to work. No one could figure out what I was. (Chuck Norris is too awesome for human vision). A guy walked in and asked our secretary, “What is wrong with that ladies’ face?”<br /><div>Yeah.</div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-16733273069407037072010-10-22T12:42:00.001-07:002010-10-22T12:46:23.006-07:00Bowl head.<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TMHpTLwcJ1I/AAAAAAAAAhY/zGBnJZPlw1g/s1600/tongue.jpg"></a>There are many, many things that I am bad at. <br />Blogging, for instance. <br />My list of crappiness also includes walking and chewing gum at the same time, mothering (Worst Mother of BRHS Class 0f 2000 – Holla!), cutting straight with scissors, having a face that doesn't make babies cry, being nice to homeless people….. I could go on for hours.<br />But, there are a few things I deserve a shout out for, for being the Captain of Awesomeness. <br />One thing: my thrifty skills. I have taught bubba dude to play with garbage in order to save money. His favorite toy? The one he can’t go to bed without? His bowl I stole from someone in college. Pretty much 90% of the day, it’s on his head. It kind of acts as a helmet which is much needed because I also am bad at walking without falling over, which he has inherited.<br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TMHpSaedcyI/AAAAAAAAAhI/VfXLMCcwwSY/s1600/cute.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530958319941677858" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 243px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TMHpSaedcyI/AAAAAAAAAhI/VfXLMCcwwSY/s320/cute.jpg" border="0" /></a> The other thing I am good at? Well, pretty much nothing else. BUT, I am posting an awesome picture of a friend get-together, because THEY are all awesome. I know I am just there for people to kick for entertainment, but still. Love you guys. A Special shout out to my BFF Oprah for making an appearance.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5530958325200300338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 162px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TMHpSuENqTI/AAAAAAAAAhQ/Rlc6LRJ3RxA/s320/friends.jpg" border="0" /><br />Also, I am never eating sushi again. Or Cheez Whiz.<br /><div></div></div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-25814477463563121062010-09-10T13:28:00.000-07:002010-09-10T13:40:40.630-07:00Old ladies rule<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TIqVtqkw4rI/AAAAAAAAAg4/1mcqUsdrI5Q/s1600/ch233.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TIqVtqkw4rI/AAAAAAAAAg4/1mcqUsdrI5Q/s320/ch233.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515385305423733426" border="0" /></a>This cutest face says it all. 'Some days everything tastes like a turd, but I'm so sexy!!'<br />I know I feel like I've been thrown into the blender of life, with a zucchini. Nasty zucchini. Blech. UNTIL it is made into bread. And then it's good. (See, that's a deep metaphor. Read it again and then hang it on your fridge).<br />We've had chaos surround us in the Heaton household as of late, although I'm sure it's muss less chaotic then the trials the rest of you deal with.<br />We've had a lousy, busy, insane week and this morning I just decided to call in sick.... because I AM sick. No, really. The chaos made me go all sicky. So as I'm laying here in my 'sick pants' (do the rest of you have those or is it another weird 'Ev' thing?) I am thinking I am not slowing down enough amidst the chaos to truly enjoy so many of the blessings of this life.<br />Especially the baby awesome. Old ladies are always so right, that he grows too fast to even know. He is 10 months...almost 11. He is freaking WALKING (well, like 5 steps and then freaks out and canon-ball dives). He's talking (he says 'yaaaay). And he's TEETHING. Which is the crap thing of it ALL. Perfect little sleeper? Not any more.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TIqVtN7hRUI/AAAAAAAAAgw/1iUoFsn5IM0/s1600/ch218.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TIqVtN7hRUI/AAAAAAAAAgw/1iUoFsn5IM0/s320/ch218.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5515385297734550850" border="0" /></a>Earlier this day, while still in my sick pants, I was watching baby tv shows. Where is my BAAAA-BY? WAAHH!!!<br />So here's to trying to enjoy the little things, the teething sleepless nights, and to celebrating his growth. Soon, he might be old enough to be enlisted as my slave, so at least THAT is something that is good about growing up.<br /><br />No really, today I'm overly grateful for this little miracle of mine. And for my life. I truly haven't felt this happy, albeit a little stressed, before. I love my boy, I love having my BFF sisters and nephew so close to torture every day, I love my little cheese of a husband, I love my job, I love my baby-sitter, and I love being able to see my toes again. So sick pants, or no pants, I'm having a good day.Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-52969928417007345862010-08-22T22:13:00.001-07:002010-08-22T22:27:10.383-07:00Individually wrapped cheese<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/THIEQpxvKOI/AAAAAAAAAgk/ghyk4cs-GJg/s1600/oprah.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 246px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/THIEQpxvKOI/AAAAAAAAAgk/ghyk4cs-GJg/s320/oprah.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508469978366421218" border="0" /></a>So my BFF Oprah convinced me not to quit blogging, along with all you sweet friends who made comments. She really likes my stories about poop. Oh, that Oprah. <br /><br />It's 11:15 on a Sunday night and I can't sleep. I have to admit, I'm a little 'high' and I should be chaperoned. I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I do NOT have a high tolerance for pain killers. And not the illegal kind, even. A couple Tylenol and Ibuprofen are good enough to have me table dancing. We don't even want to talk about my days in the hospital with morphene or the days of the prescription Oxy where I mooned half the neighborhood.<br />So I have another migraine and popped a few Tylenol and now everything is looking like rainbows and sparkles.<br />And did you KNOW that they sell individually wrapped packages of cheddar cheese, like little gifts from angels? THEY ARE THE BEST THING EVER!!!! I've eaten four!!!<br /><br />Last time this pain-killer legal high happened was a few weeks ago. I was on my way to choir with Jack-Jack and Ash and I let them know about the days when I wore pudding balloons.<br /><br />So I will tell the world now of my secret. We just had our 10 year reunion (oh my freaking gosh!!) which has got me all sorts of reminiscing. 10 years ago I was still pretty insane but my parents didn't let me out of my cage much so not many people knew. Plus I cared about what everybody thought. Always. Now.... whether it's the drugs or the head injury or schizophrenia, I don't. I don't even have a filter and it gets me in trouble.<br />What was I talking about?<br />Oh yeah. Pudding balloons. I was taught by an older and much wiser friend that pudding is as good as silicone. So I learned to fill balloons with pudding (vanilla is the best, least smelly option) and flatten them out and add them to my brasiere. And I did it. ALL THE TIME. <br />They exploded a few times, but they made for a tasty snack in the midst of embarrassment.<br /><br />And also, I wore two bras on my wedding day.<br /><br />Crap, my blog isn't private yet. But those are my stories and I couldn't sleep until I shared them. Oh, seriously, this cheese is the best thing EVER. <br /><br /><img src="file:///C:/Users/JACOBH%7E1/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot-1.png" alt="" /><img src="file:///C:/Users/JACOBH%7E1/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.png" alt="" />Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-38317177439283026932010-08-03T20:32:00.001-07:002010-08-03T20:40:06.489-07:00To quit....and Duck Fuzz<div>Yeah, so I have been seriously contemplating quitting blogging. But first, I just have to show you one of my favorite things: Carter's freaking cute duck fuzz of a head. Lookit!!!</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TFjfxSVIgnI/AAAAAAAAAgc/_qhJsgJSp4c/s1600/P7140259.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/TFjfxSVIgnI/AAAAAAAAAgc/_qhJsgJSp4c/s320/P7140259.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501392982660121202" /></a>I love this kid!!<div>ANYWAYS...... the quitting thing.... Yeah. I don't know. I love to stalk..... I mean, to look at other people's blogs. I am amazed at my friends. You have so many talents and abilities and funny stories and are all so near to perfect I shake just thinking about it. Me? I talk about poop. And homeless people. I am SO not a wonder mother that can post about the amazing projects of my day. My life is crazy busy and full of shenninagans, but not blog-worthy ones. Honestly, I do have a confession - I have never made a casserole in my ENTIRE life. EVER. (Also never watched Star Wars so I STILL think I'm cool). I wonder if my random rants and ravings are worth the time, or if I should just stalk in peace.</div><div>Besides, why do all these Chinese people want to leave weird Chinese comments? Do you think they're death threats.... or recipes??!! Go private??</div><div><br /></div><div>Sigh. These are my thoughts. Maybe the real reason for maybe quitting is that I can't find my computer pluggy thing for my camera and I'm too lazy to get pictures other ways. Geez.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-70529430462907969612010-06-17T11:54:00.000-07:002010-06-17T12:04:17.367-07:00Chapstick.... Cuz my lips hurt real badItem of business #1: I know I have been ooooober bad about blogging. But I have ooooober good excuses, which I will include.<br /><br />Item #2: The title of this post has no relevance. I get sick of having to think of good titles. And because it's my birthday today, I get to write what I want.<br /><br />So.... here's a little bit of what we've been up to. And if you want pictures, give up now, because I get to be lazy on my birthday and I don't want to find my camera.<br /><br />*Carter is crawling. Everywhere. And not just crawling. He is pulling himself up on everything... EVERYTHING. I'm worried social services will be called because he keeps falling over and banging himself.<br />*He has a fascination with the toilet. Should I be worried? Every time I leave a room, I hear his pitter-patter as he follows me. When it goes silent, I find him in the bathroom... sucking on the toilet. Our toilets have never been so clean.<br />*Jake started a kick-a new job. We have been praying and interviewing and crying for months, and we feel so so so blessed. He is the manager/designer of a marketing firm in Cottonwood Heights. Go Jake!<br />*Jake also thought it would be awesome to go and tear up half of his ACL and meniscus and had surgery. He is really funny when he is high. He talks about poop. More than me.<br />*I am going back to work. It's a necessity thing, but I think it will be ok - it's only part time. I will be working at UVU as the graduation/transfer adviser. Or something like that.... I'm too old, because of my birthday, to remember what the job actually is. But it's only from 12-5 so I can corrupt Carter with the rest of my days. I think it will be a good thing... I am just having anxiety about having to leave my widdle baby boy. However, I hope it will help my social retardedness that I am getting from spending most days babbling Lady Gaga lines to my baby awesome.<br />*I am joining an awesome new choir, the Millennium Choir out of SLC. I haven't sung since college and I ooooober miss it and I hope it will be a good thing. If they can handle all my talk about poop.<br />*I have taken up Zumba. Best workout ever. I basically don't get the hip action/jiggling thing, because I am wa-hite as all white, but I"m good at making up my own dances. And I'm losing a lot of my jiggly parts!!<br />*We went on our first vacation ever as a family to St. George for the sealing/blessing of my beautiful favorite niece Lydia. Carter doesn't sleep in hotels. And he REALLY likes their toilets.<br /><br />These are my thoughts for the day. Now I am going to eat 6 pounds of M&amp;M's, because I can. Besides, I'm starting to lose control of my bowels in my old age so I better enjoy it while I can.Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-58424876180058092522010-05-05T10:28:00.001-07:002010-05-05T10:45:11.885-07:00Brain, how I MISS YOU<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S-GuCYVLPaI/AAAAAAAAAgE/PweTgSECLLQ/s1600/sosmiley.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S-GuCYVLPaI/AAAAAAAAAgE/PweTgSECLLQ/s320/sosmiley.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467842778518732194" border="0" /></a>Ok, so I always have to start off most posts with ravings of my awesome little man. Because that's what makes me happy, and that's what I want to blog about......<br />My amazing sister Becca happens to hold the world record of neck circumference, but is also amazingly beautiful and talented. (Check out her blog... rdlphoto.blogspot.com. AMAZING)<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S-Gt3uaq83I/AAAAAAAAAf8/sj1koXJo-68/s1600/flames.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S-Gt3uaq83I/AAAAAAAAAf8/sj1koXJo-68/s320/flames.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467842595468800882" border="0" /></a><br />His 6 month stats:<br />Weight: 18 pounds. He hasn't hardly gained any in 2 months. That's because he has a diagnosed case of the wiggles, the shakies, the oober-hyperactive-shake-what-your-mama-gave you squirmies. This kid is a mover. He is SO close to crawling that it scares me. I love that he sits, but it's not good enough for him. He wants to MOVE. He spends all day rolling around the house and scooting on his belly and bum, and I keep finding him stuck in corners. Oh, geez.<br />Height: 29.5 inches. Off the charts. Gonna be a baller.<br />Head: too big to count. Measuring tapes don't get that big.<br />He is NOT an eater. We have been trying to go through all the fruits and veggies and he pretty much only eats carrots, peaches, and apples. He LOVES to giggle and has a the cutest darned belly laugh I've ever heard. He still mellow, and always happy, but SO curious. He loves people and part of the reason he will never eat is that he hates to sit still for the few minutes it takes. He would much rather flirt. Oh, yeah, that's right... I'm already getting ready for when this dude is a teenager. Women of the world, crawl under your beds, because Mama Ev will be ON.<br /><br />He also is 100% his dad. Yeah, he has some hope. He thinks he is a bad-a but underneath is all gooshy.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S-Gq7kfeWWI/AAAAAAAAAfc/ePehOPOw61Y/s1600/bada.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S-Gq7kfeWWI/AAAAAAAAAfc/ePehOPOw61Y/s320/bada.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5467839362989185378" border="0" /></a>Priceless face, eh??!! I LOVE IT!!! And I love that the little blondey has grown the five hairs necessary for a fo-hawk.<br /><br />I, on the not-so-cute hand, also have a diagnosed medical condition. Mom-brain. Can't remember if I already posted about this or not, because I don't remember anything.<br />I showed up early to a birthday party ---- 2 days early.<br />I shaved the back of my husband's head completely bald. He has one sad, lone strip of baldness ... reverse mohawk. No joke.<br />I wore my pants backwards to the grocery store.<br />I tried to get ready for church on a Friday morning.<br /><br />It's not a joke. I've lost it. Ah, oh well. Backwards pants might be the NEW thing.Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-51592661682810365172010-04-12T12:38:00.000-07:002010-04-12T12:51:41.654-07:00Grunt<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S8N3QZy4AdI/AAAAAAAAAfU/GUgomx8npqw/s1600/IMG_2420.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S8N3QZy4AdI/AAAAAAAAAfU/GUgomx8npqw/s320/IMG_2420.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459338296989057490" /></a>Whew, long time no see... I'm sure all the Chinese people leaving comments on my blog have missed me.... (time to go private????) Like everybody else... we've been a little busy. Mostly busy being in love with the above posted handsome he-devil ninja. What a jolly, drooly, happy, genius boy. I love my life.<div><br /></div><div>We also... moved. Yeah. It was pretty sudden. We have moved 6 times in our 5 years of marriage, own 2 of the homes... and now live in a condo. Not everything is as planned but it works. I will do whatever it takes to try and stay home with my baby. If we could just get someone to buy one of our houses then I wouldn't have to listen to the upstairs neighbor vacuum, seriously, twice a day. ( I'm a failure if that is how much you are supposed to vacuum. Or maybe she just leaves a lot of crumbs, or is into vacuum yoga...do any of YOU vacuum twice a day?? Seriously??).</div><div><br /></div><div>We moved from good ole Pleasant Grove, BYU-driven, non-caffeine drinking, mom-haircut, land to Saratoga Springs, about 15 minutes further out. Our lease was up and we just needed a little more space, and we found a brand new, nicer, big placer that was less than what we were paying. We also needed to feel a little less Utah County-ish. Like I've said before, we decorated Carter's nursery in skulls ... we do not fit the mold. No offense intended. Here's to hoping Saratoga won't shun us for having mohawks, facial hair (my dang 5 o'clock shadow), or for our motorcycle.</div><div><br /></div><div>Also in the meantime, I have lost my little baby. Cry. He is a little man. He eats solid foods, loves carrots, sits UP, and now thinks he can learn to crawl. He giggles, does the bobble-head, makes monkey faces, blows spit, and just generally makes life worth living. He turns 6 months next week. Yeah. It's a good life.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S8N3P93hwXI/AAAAAAAAAfM/hWJtH0XCH0E/s1600/IMG_2433.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S8N3P93hwXI/AAAAAAAAAfM/hWJtH0XCH0E/s320/IMG_2433.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5459338289492377970" /></a></div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-21687758693635165342010-03-09T08:45:00.001-08:002010-03-09T09:02:49.257-08:00I love my Barbie armSo I have to be honest. I've had work done. I'm not all natural. I've been under the knife.<br />Yeah, I'm a multi-thousand dollar woman. I'm half titanium.<br /><br /> I remember one of the first things I remember after coming into consciousness out of the ICU after my accident was my bishop visiting. While under the heavy influence of morphine, I told him I was in the hospital for a boob job. I even made hand motions depicting boobs. My mom has never turned so red, or so I'm told. <br /><br />So maybe being metal isn't as cool as a boob job, but it's not so bad. I've always felt I'm a little different, and now I have the X-Rays to prove it. <br />My right arm no longer straightens. It has since been labeled the Barbie arm... I spent a few years being so ashamed of it I couldn't wear short sleeved shirts. Now, I love it. It's a miracle arm - the nerve damage sustained was so severe, it was paralyzed for several months. One day... it just worked again, and has been working ever since.<br />Until recently, when a screw decided to come so loose that I can hang coats on it. I tried to ignore it for a few months, but it has gotten so bad I hear it jiggling. So next week I get to literally have a screw come out. And I'm FREAKING out. This is the fifth surgery the accident has caused me, and I keep having those nightmares that I'm like those patients on Grey's Anatomy that die on the table before the surgery even starts. <br />I'm scared. Skeered, as the homies put it. I don't want next week to come! I know I'm being a big baby... but it's so creepy that I get a screwdriver to the arm...<br /><br />And because every post has to include some news of my baby awesome ninja, here you go.<br />He had his 4 month check up two weeks ago. He is 28" long. He's a giant - off the charts. His weight was 16 pounds, which is only in the 70th percentile. The doctor said he was long and skinny. <br />DOES THIS LOOK SKINNY TO YOU??!!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S5Z7y0xz0NI/AAAAAAAAAfE/2ahYmNazpOI/s1600-h/IMG_2397.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S5Z7y0xz0NI/AAAAAAAAAfE/2ahYmNazpOI/s320/IMG_2397.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446676912442429650" border="0" /></a>He has also started to eat rice cereal. Well.... smear it up his nose and ears and eyes is more like it, because he can't figure out a spoon.. .but still, I can't believe he's this old.<br />He has also been doing such cute things. He has figured out how to roll BOTH ways, and all day long rolls around the room and under furniture. He grabs everything he can find and puts it in his mouth. He makes monkey faces and spit bubbles and giggles non-stop.<br />I LOVE MY LITTLE MAN. And his million little faces.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S5Z7xrS4A6I/AAAAAAAAAe0/eS1upBPMa-w/s1600-h/IMG_2426.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S5Z7xrS4A6I/AAAAAAAAAe0/eS1upBPMa-w/s320/IMG_2426.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5446676892716893090" border="0" /></a>I've gotta get the Barbie arm fixed so as to better snuggle this little ball of awesome cuteness. Sigh.Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-69283364701567506892010-02-12T12:56:00.000-08:002010-02-12T13:15:43.088-08:00Stop Growing Up I say!!!<div>Scream!!! I've come to many realizations during the past few weeks. Here are some of them.</div><div><br /></div><div>1. I am clinically insane and should be caged. Wait... don't I mention this in every post? Part of the insanity (that and the drooling).</div><div>2. I really, really love my job as a mom..... although I think my son is re-thinking his choice to stand in my line in heaven... but I think I've posted that before too.</div><div>3. We spend our entire lives wanting to be older, until we're OLD, and then we wish everything would just SLOW DOWN!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>My piddley little newborn baby boy is piddley no longer. He is CHUNKA. 'BUBBA THE CHUBBA.' Squishy everywhere. He went to the doctor this week and is already 16 pounds. I feed him nachos on the side, but don't tell.</div><div><br /></div><div>The kid never ceases to amaze me. He is just so happy to be alive and explore the world around him. One thing is for sure and he is a friggin wiggler! He will NOT stay still. He likes to stand (with help of course), sit up, roll over, crabwalk.... you name it. He is just 3 months and he has learned to scoot. Not kidding. He pivots constantly on the ground and never stays in the same place that we put him down. I told you before... he really is a Ninja that WILL give Mr. Norris a run for his money. Prepare for Carter, Utah Ranger.</div><div><br /></div><div>Realization 4: The Bumbo is my best friend. I never even heard of these things until my friend Di mentioned it. It sits him up so I don't have to. Now I have two hands free to... eat, pick my nose, and whatever I want!</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S3XBMhEPpQI/AAAAAAAAAes/x4Z1e9k86O8/s1600-h/IMG_2360.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S3XBMhEPpQI/AAAAAAAAAes/x4Z1e9k86O8/s320/IMG_2360.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437464545898505474" /></a>Realization 5: He might be growing up fast... but it can only get better. We love him more every day and I always look forward to what he learns next!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S3XBMODGs6I/AAAAAAAAAek/IftvmGvzujQ/s1600-h/IMG_2351.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S3XBMODGs6I/AAAAAAAAAek/IftvmGvzujQ/s320/IMG_2351.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5437464540793451426" /></a>Oh, and I realized I just ate an entire bag of Reeses. Oh, poop.<div><br /></div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-1518492335443590112010-01-22T14:20:00.000-08:002010-01-22T14:35:46.592-08:00Bootie-licious<div>Is anybody else so over January? I mean, I love the snow, but by now, the holidays are over, the snowmen have been built, the fudge has been eaten, and I just wanna freaking skip around in flowers and see some gosh dang sunlight. Is that too much to ask?</div><div><br /></div><div>We have spent a lot of snuggly days at home..., because we don't get out... we are down to one car these days and since hitch-hiking in Utah County is a little creepy, Carter and I are stranded until the truck is fixed. Not too bad, considering how cute and happy this little chubbers is.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S1oljf5X0jI/AAAAAAAAAec/c-1Zd9VRfas/s1600-h/IMG_2326.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S1oljf5X0jI/AAAAAAAAAec/c-1Zd9VRfas/s320/IMG_2326.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429693592536338994" /></a>In this free time I have decided to do many free things. Number one, I am being shredded by Jillian Michaels. It has been such an accomplishment to step on the scale and see the very slowly falling numbers, but at least they're falling. At least I am fitting into my jeans... although it's frustrating when after I work out, dripping from sweat, the husband says, while eating his Oreos, 'Oh, I decided to cough and lost 86 pounds.' <div> On those days, I make cakes. Yeah, I have decided to one-up Betty Crocker. She wishes she were me. Check out this baby; I should go into friggin business!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S1oliwoF0bI/AAAAAAAAAeU/ROIvP7f5YUw/s1600-h/cake.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S1oliwoF0bI/AAAAAAAAAeU/ROIvP7f5YUw/s320/cake.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429693579847389618" /></a>Yeah, so I guess cakes, or Betty Crocker-ing is not my thing. I really am trying to learn to be domestic after so many years working out of the home.... but I guess I have to take my baby steps.<div>Speaking of baby steps... and babies... I know, I know, I am SUCH a mom with a mom haircut, but I can never get over how blessed I am to have baby awesome. Baby awesome is three months this week! He sure lives up to his name. Not only has he been sleeping through the night for several weeks, but it is usually 9-10 hours at a time. He is nothing but giggles and talking these days, and he even wakes up from his little naps just playing and talking to his crib. He has already rolled over and is such a little river-dancer.</div><div> I can't get over this little miracle and what an angel he is to us. What a mellow, happy, but freaking fat and adorable guy! I know for sure he will change his angel ways the minute he starts being mobile, so I better enjoy these snuggly days while they last. All the old people are right again, it really goes by too fast.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh yeah, and he is sporting a pretty wicked awesome mullet. Business in the front, par-tay in the back.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S1olilKjg2I/AAAAAAAAAeM/QadB1DwXihQ/s1600-h/IMG_2279.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S1olilKjg2I/AAAAAAAAAeM/QadB1DwXihQ/s320/IMG_2279.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5429693576770716514" /></a>Also, he has back fat. But he's bringing sexy back.</div></div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-30139006451170764852010-01-06T13:07:00.000-08:002010-01-06T14:13:05.174-08:00Sike!!!<div>To say 2009 was a hard year would be a bit of an understatement. It was literally the best and worst year of our little family's life.</div><div>We've had a lot of the rough stuff try to re-surface lately, and yesterday I found myself all friggin out crazy again. Not my normal, lick people's faces crazy, but the kind of crazy where I cry when I saw how skinny people eating hamburgers are on TV (THAT IS NOT REALISTIC), and cry when I saw the pile of dishes, and cry when my new dryer sheets didn't smell spring fresh, and more like an old lady's perfume.</div><div>I found myself in the 'WHY ME??!!' mode and called most of my family to complain about how it sucks so much to be an adult.</div><div>But then it hit me. Thanks to a much wiser sister Becca.</div><div>I am seriously, like, so blessed. Seriously.</div><div>So we lost two jobs this year. We were able to get two more jobs. </div><div>We were told last December that we would never be able to conceive.... three months later, sha-pow!</div><div>We were told Carter would come two months early and face major problems. He came on time - perfect, healthy, and totally ninja awesome. He is the happiest little chubbers I have EVER seen.</div><div> So my body was taken over by something that looks weird and I had to gain weight - the bed rest worked and I am healthy (lost 36 pounds and counting, sha-zam yo!).</div><div>So we lost health insurance at 7 months prego. We got it back with 3 weeks to spare.</div><div><br /></div><div>These small miracles are no small thing. I know we are being looked after from a power so much greater than our own, and I have NO room to complain. I remember 6 years ago when all I could do is pray to be out of the wheelchair and walk again. I promised myself then I wouldn't sweat the small things. I want to smack myself for thinking things are that tough now.</div><div><br /></div><div>I guess I had to post this as a reminder to myself to remember to cherish the blessings and forget about the other crap daily life brings. Seriously. I know, it's deep.</div><div><br /></div><div>I mean, look at my sweetheart's smile. Somehow... looking at this... I love my life!</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S0T78P1BeuI/AAAAAAAAAeE/zEvjUw05Qnw/s1600-h/IMG_0638.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/S0T78P1BeuI/AAAAAAAAAeE/zEvjUw05Qnw/s320/IMG_0638.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5423736863720569570" /></a>Yeah, and the moving thing? Not going to happen anymore. I will be in Utah County. Please give me a HOLLA if you are around because I seriously am worried I might start wearing velour tracksuits before it's too late.Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-18602454034919445152009-12-26T18:44:00.001-08:002009-12-26T18:54:41.029-08:00Poo. And Christmas.<div>Hey, did you know that Chuck Norris doesn't believe in Germany?</div><div><br /></div><div>Anyways.... all I wanted for Christmas was a little miracle. This is what I got.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/SzbKkAY7QlI/AAAAAAAAAd0/q3xQWyYr-V0/s1600-h/IMG_9712b.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 214px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/SzbKkAY7QlI/AAAAAAAAAd0/q3xQWyYr-V0/s320/IMG_9712b.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5419741921515618898" /></a>Yeah, pretty much the most kick-A awesome miracle ever. It makes me the happiest I have EVER, EVER been.<div>*As a side note, Carter decided to throw a curve ball at mom and started sleeping through the night last week. Still not every night, but SO much better. We now have a pretty good routine/schedule going which makes for much happier Heatons. Thank you all you mamas for your input. SO helpful.*</div><div><br /></div><div>Christmas, again, was SUPER. I mean, really really SUPER, and even rad. But full of poo. Carter routinely poos all the way to his chin. And armpits. And sometimes ears. We go through about 7 outfit changes a day. I feel like poo is a constant on the brain. We went to Jake's work party, and as the other young couples sat around talking about their jobs and politics, I liked to routinely add in facts about bowel movements; their colors and frequencies. Yeah. Will Mom brain ever go away? I seriously put both my shoes on the wrong feet the other day and walked around for a half hour. Couldn't figure out why they were hurting my feet.</div><div><br /></div><div>Christmas also brought about many new stressors and urps. (That's like vomit. Cuz life throws up on us too). Turns out there is an 87% we will be moving.... AGAIN. Utah County must be kicking us out because I say poo too much.</div><div><br /></div><div>So... point of this post? Can't remember. And sounds like Carter just made a poo. Hee.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-86210490479715301502009-12-04T14:17:00.000-08:002009-12-04T14:43:22.822-08:00Aw, geez, mom.<div>I have 100% mom brain. Before I had Carter I told myself that although being a mother is the greatest thing to ever do, I did not want to lose my self in it. But I am one step away from mom jeans and sequin cat soccer sweaters. My only conversations consist of size and consistency of poop, boob juice, and naps. But I wouldn't have it any other way.</div><div><br /></div><div>I truly now know the meaning of not having enough hours in the day. I am so lucky to be able to stay home, but I am in complete amazement of how others have more than one child. I am surrounded by mountains of laundry, dirty dishes, messy bedrooms... I consider it an accomplishment to get showered by 2 p.m. But my kid is thriving. Or at least pretending, because he is pretty much an undercover ninja. I try to look at his face, and look at the kid... he is chubbing up like no one has chubbed, and he is the most mellow, happy kid I have ever met. I mean, look at this face! So does this mean I am doing something right??</div><div><br /></div><img src="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc3/hs091.snc3/15847_221289407253_744642253_4728908_2292078_n.jpg" /><div>His favorite thing to do lately, along with smiling and even a few giggles, is to give me the look of "Aw geez, mom, you're an embarrassment to humanity." Tru dat, yo.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I have some venting/questioning/ranting for all of you mothers out there. I really feel like a failure! I thought this would be easier. I have a degree in human development and thought that would give me an edge up. Ha. That is funny.</div><div>I am having the hardest time with continued sleep deprivation. Carter has made it to where he will sleep 3-4 hours a time at night, but that's it. Other friends have babies this age and have them sleeping way more. Many have them on schedules.</div><div>Should he be on a schedule at six weeks? Should I just roll with his punches? Every day he treats my boobs as a snack bar and won't eat for longer than 10 minutes. I feel guilty because I don't know how much I should be playing with him, how long I should let him cry.... why isn't there a better instruction book out there? </div><div>I feel like I am doing things wrong because all day he won't take longer than 20 minute naps and wants to eat every hour and a half or so. Yeah. My boobs hurt. Just so you know, because I knew you wondered.</div><div>And will I EVER get more than 2 hours sleep?? Yeah, help. </div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-33892086527461718202009-11-17T13:48:00.000-08:002009-11-17T14:16:48.337-08:00Happy One Month!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/SwMacYnJyvI/AAAAAAAAAds/xnajuGTq2fE/s1600/IMG_9899.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/SwMacYnJyvI/AAAAAAAAAds/xnajuGTq2fE/s320/IMG_9899.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405193052720057074" /></a>Happy One MONTH Birthday, Carter!!!<div>I guess I don't mean to brag, (OK, I really do), but my son is already a superhero by the age of 4 weeks. Here are some of the many, many reasons.</div><div>*His most amazing cuteness, handsomeness, and overall good-lookingness is enough to melt anybody in their tracks; especially grandmas.</div><div>*He sleeps with one eye half open. He knows when the enemy is coming.</div><div>*He speaks one billion languages, and especially those of zoo animals. When he falls asleep, he lets out little squeaks like a dolphin. In the middle of his sleep, he grunts and groans like a little goat. When he is ready to eat, he is an all out snorting pig. Very cute.</div><div>*He can lift his head and chest all the way up while on his tummy. Flying comes next.</div><div>*When he is awake, he just sits quietly and entertains himself for hours. He is secretly contemplating the plan on saving the world.</div><div>*He has the world's largest superhero tummy and could fit a station wagon inside. This kid packs it away like I've never seen. And he very politely burps when done. He even has Manners.</div><div>*He has killer gas. Whew.</div><div>*Even though he is so manly and tough, he loves nothing more than to curl into a little ball and snuggle on his mommy's chest. He's such a little cuddler. Of super proportions, of course.</div><div>*He has already giggled once. One might argue it was a sort of gas/hiccup/grunt, but it was an all out giggle, with dimples and everything. He has a very silly mommy, and he knows it.</div><div>*His mommy doesn't know what she's doing, but he continues to thrive and survive. If that's not a superhero, I don't know what is.</div><div><br /></div><div>Carter, we love you more than we can ever say. Never has something brought us such joy and we thank God each day for the beautiful, perfect little miracle that you are. Happy One Month.</div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-18280803677633496182009-11-08T16:45:00.000-08:002009-11-08T16:58:18.999-08:00Even Ninjas need to rest....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/Svdm-6ZcaSI/AAAAAAAAAdk/uMcaN6xAm9U/s1600-h/IMG_2235.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/Svdm-6ZcaSI/AAAAAAAAAdk/uMcaN6xAm9U/s320/IMG_2235.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401899509068097826" /></a>I can't believe it has been 19 days. 19 days since my life flip-turned-upside-down (said like the Fresh Prince, yo). Look at my little guy! He is so tough and ninja that as you can see above, he even knocks himself around to prove how manly he is! <div><br /></div><div>We have good days and bad days, but the worst thing is still sleep deprivation. It does wonders for a person who is as naturally crazy as me. Add that to painkillers... it's a daily circus. I have daily, even hourly breakdowns.... being a mother IS the hardest thing in the world. I am neurotic and anxious and scared....this is really, really, really hard.</div><div><br /></div><div>I just have to say that the difficult pregnancy and labor gave me the biggest blessing ever, and Carter is a wonderful, happy, and pretty much easy baby. He hardly ever cries. He just snorts when he is hungry (which is ALL THE STINKING TIME). He tends to get a little pissed off when he is naked, because that is so un-awesome, but other than that, he is just curious, precious, and a hungry little pig. And I love him. As soon as he fixes the whole day/night mix up (he gets up every stinking hour at night!), we'll be good...<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/Svdm-jQ3AKI/AAAAAAAAAdc/o1TBqhleQIs/s1600-h/IMG_2224.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/Svdm-jQ3AKI/AAAAAAAAAdc/o1TBqhleQIs/s320/IMG_2224.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401899502858076322" /></a>He keeps giving Jake and I looks (see above) like "Who the heck are you? I thought I was in Brangelina's line in heaven....." He also tends to squeak like a high-pitched dolphin, which some people might not perceive as manly, but I think it is a ninja warning call.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/Svdm-FSh6VI/AAAAAAAAAdU/lBRAPV_IaPs/s1600-h/IMG_2212.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/Svdm-FSh6VI/AAAAAAAAAdU/lBRAPV_IaPs/s320/IMG_2212.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5401899494812019026" /></a>Yes, Cap'n CARRRRRRRRRRTER is still Captain Awesome. </div></div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-7712478616519359462009-10-27T18:35:00.000-07:002009-10-27T18:53:52.939-07:00Lovin my Burrito Boy!!<img src="http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs277.snc1/10431_192272422253_744642253_4449516_324872_n.jpg" /><div>My goodness gracious, Carter is already a week old. All those old people are right - it flies by way, way too fast.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I thought I would share the story of his highness, the ultimate ninja, and his arrival. </div><div>Above is a picture of me from approximately 10 days ago. Yeah, I know. Illegally too large in 7 countries.</div><div>So a few days later I woke up not feeling the best. Monday night we had a friend over and we were watching Frankenstein. Well, I don't like monsters (they really smell). I guess Carter doesn't either because he chose in the middle of the movie to have my water break, out of the blue. </div><div>Jake didn't believe me and thought I'd peed my pants in scaredy-ness. </div><div>So a little over an hour later, at 8:30 p.m. we arrived at the hospital. </div><div>Wasn't dialating, at all, but almost fully effaced. They decided to start me on pitosin to speed up the contractions. Epidural? Heck, YES. Was great, for about 3 hours.</div><div>The contractions then started to cause Carter some distress. Never, ever have been so scared as when his heart rate dropped off the monitor and 5 nurses/doctors came running and kept mentioning a c-section. Got it figured out.</div><div>But then something bizarro-happened and the epidural wore completely off. I was not numb at all. The anesthesiologist said it was some kind of nerve blockage. (I think it was a conspiracy by a group of vampires but that's another story).</div><div><img src="http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs257.snc1/10431_192272437253_744642253_4449518_6235275_n.jpg" /></div><div>So I was dying in pain and kept yelling at everybody, calling them Satan. Finally at 5 a.m. I was ready to push. </div><div>Got to push for a freaking 3 hours because I had to rest in between contractions because of Carter's distress. I felt every bit of it. Let's just say that every woman that has given birth deserves a Purple Heart and one billion dollars, seriously.</div><div>When the doctor finally came in, I was ready. One horrible cut and three pushes later, he was out...8:30 a.m. I screamed like no one else has screamed, worse than a fat lady with her donuts forever taken away, but never have been so amazed at what I saw. Even being goopy, he was CUTE. I've had the fear all along that our poor baby would be a mixture of Chuck Norris' grandma and Donk, but he was beautiful.</div><div><img src="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs218.snc1/8529_189787282253_744642253_4427717_1072567_n.jpg" /></div><div>He has been such a little miracle, angel of a baby. I know everybody says that, but I'd like to take a minute to join in the sappiness because it's totally true. I can't get over the miracle that he is, perfectly formed, down to his teeny little fingernails, here and healthy and beautiful.</div><div><br /></div><div>He is all Jake. He has Jake's beautiful lips and little dimple in the chin, Jake's beautiful big blue eyes, Jake's huge noggin. He does have my fat cheeks and his mouth is so incredibly large it could almost fit a small puppy in there. </div><div><img src="http://photos-f.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs277.snc1/10431_192272472253_744642253_4449523_4604042_n.jpg" /></div><div>Recovery seems to be slow-going, and I am not one of those perfect women that is out running, wearing the skinny jeans, looking perfect, doing her own dishes.</div><div>But I am one of those women who is revelling in smelling her beautiful miracle boy, watching his funny facial expressions, listening to his squeak-squeakersons, and wrapping him up so he is my little burrito of a boy. Labor totally, totally sucks, and so does the aftermath (can I just say, POO?), but the end result already makes me forget it.</div><div>I am in love.</div><div><img src="http://photos-c.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs257.snc1/10431_192272487253_744642253_4449526_7249277_n.jpg" /></div><div>*Note* I have never fallen more in love with Jake than watching him be a daddy. He is INCREDIBLE. *</div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-18265542890433082622009-10-22T20:19:00.001-07:002009-10-22T20:23:43.194-07:00Sha-zam!!! He's HERE!So in case you didn't hear my screaming across state lines, he's here!<div><img src="http://photos-g.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs242.snc1/8920_1270521281181_1174325442_877297_4381908_n.jpg" /></div><div>Carter Oren Heaton was born on Tuesday, October 20 at 8:29 a.m.</div><div><br /></div><div>7 lbs, 13 0unces and 20 inches full of awesome good-looking-ness.</div><div>He is perfect and doing wonderful. </div><div><br /></div><div>His mommy is so tired she can't tell the difference between a boob and a spatula, so more to come later with all the beautiful details and pics.</div><div><br /></div><div>Seriously, though, isn't he amazing??!!!!</div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-12457977542699611002009-10-14T12:46:00.000-07:002009-10-14T13:12:02.466-07:00Get OUT!!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/StYrqLiKNBI/AAAAAAAAAdM/IUJcksXLNOY/s1600-h/IMG_2134.JPG"></a><span><span></span></span>So I don't get it. I fought going into early labor and contractions for two months straight. Now that I want baby awesome to BE here, he sticks his fanny all up in my ribs and is refusing to come out. No contractions - NOTHING.<div>I'm not due until next week but I already know he is at least 15 pounds and might have a full beard. I am ready. He needs to decide to be ready. Seriously.</div><div>The doctor had encouraging news - I am 80% effaced but still only dialated at about a 2. (Better than zero, right?) He stripped my membranes yesterday (AAARRRRRRRRRR) and I thought last night would be the night. But no. Ninja Norris has set up camp.</div><div>So I will post pictures of my half completed nursery. We are a bunch of rebel-rousers and wanted any excuse to use skulls instead of teddy bears so we went after pirates. None of the bedding or finishing touches are done yet, but this is what we have so far:</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/StYrpvuCTVI/AAAAAAAAAdE/7N-sZoOzlWw/s1600-h/IMG_2132.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/StYrpvuCTVI/AAAAAAAAAdE/7N-sZoOzlWw/s320/IMG_2132.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392545600006933842" /></a>Our crib is awesome. Jake's mom got it for us and it makes me tear with joy looking at it!!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/StYro3QRXXI/AAAAAAAAAc8/CBU4YeQN5r8/s1600-h/IMG_2133.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/StYro3QRXXI/AAAAAAAAAc8/CBU4YeQN5r8/s320/IMG_2133.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392545584849706354" /></a>Aren't we good parents to have our baby ninja looking up into the face of a skull each morning?<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/StYrodCafHI/AAAAAAAAAc0/SJGUOxe6ZLk/s1600-h/IMG_2130.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/StYrodCafHI/AAAAAAAAAc0/SJGUOxe6ZLk/s320/IMG_2130.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392545577812262002" /></a>I also continue to feel very blessed. I know I want him out but I am truly grateful he stayed in long enough to be healthy. I just want to give birth to a baby and not a MAN. We have been blessed as well by having such kick-a awesome friends and family. We had several amazing, generous showers and I don't know where we'd be without the help. Here I made Jake come in and open a box of ding dongs (best present EVER).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/StYrn7QExZI/AAAAAAAAAcs/wyZ3vg94KM8/s1600-h/IMG_2085.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/StYrn7QExZI/AAAAAAAAAcs/wyZ3vg94KM8/s320/IMG_2085.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392545568742753682" /></a>I am running, squatting, eating pineapple, and shining a flashlight up my basement (head towards the light, dude). I say it's time. Here's to hoping next post will have me all puffy faced and blurry eyed in love with my new little dude. I just want to meet him!!</div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-81216162419990708432009-09-28T05:05:00.000-07:002009-09-28T05:18:44.495-07:00Two words: Battleship HipsIt's 6 a.m. and what am I doing? Eating fruit snacks and staring hopelessly at a computer screen while I would MUCH rather be staring at the back of my eyelids. Sigh. I don't think I'll ever be friends with my old friend sleep again. It's making me go even MORE loony, if that's possible.<div><br /></div><div>This last week has been one of the biggest roller-coasters of my entire life. It had the best of the best and the worst of the worstest in the world. </div><div>I choose to focus on the best.</div><div><br /></div><div>Best - I AM OFF BED-REST. I made it!!! (I just did a bum jiggle, although that doesn't take much these days). I hit 36 weeks last week and the doctor said I could 'ease on up' out of bed rest. So I've been kicking my recliner repeatedly, like Chuck taught me, and trying to make up for two months lost time. It's just that no one told me how painful it is to waddle for more than five minutes. Or how my hips would make their own zip code, aching after being up all day. It hurts to be awake most days and I finally understand what women mean when they say they are 'done' being pregnant.</div><div>Yeah, he's cooked much longer than expected and I would be OK if he popped any minute. Only 3 weeks left.... 3 weeks.... I can make it, right???</div><div><br /></div><div>BEST - I have been blessed with the best, most loving and generous family and friends in the world. They've given me several showers and I have a room full of love and generosity and cute cuddly boy things (including lots of hats.... rock on). The nursery is still pink - hopefully that will get conquered this week - and hopefully soon I can post pictures of the most awesome rockin pirate booty nursery in the WORLD. I am overwhelmed at the love and support of everyone around us. I don't know what I did to get so lucky. Or it could be pity for my over-sized baby mama hips. Either way.</div><div><br /></div><div>BEST - Jake is still married to me, even after daily doses of me attacking him, and then crying on him, and then licking him, and then yelling, and even after he looks at my belly button. I don't know how he does it but he has special powers.</div><div><br /></div><div>Yeah. SO - I was wondering, any tips on making baby ninjas dropkick their way out any faster? It's just my luck that he was so anxious to come before, now everything has shut off and he decided he is much more comfortable chillin in my belly, learning la cucaracha. Hot sauce??</div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-67559624600373019182009-09-16T14:30:00.001-07:002009-09-16T14:48:57.574-07:00Screw on the lid... TIGHT!!<div>Pee. It's what's on my mind. Little piddley loves to rehearse his kickboxing right on my bladder which is soon to lead to public embarrassment.</div><div>More pee.</div><div> I had another doctor's check up today. Can I ever have a day without drama? Of course not, because I am mother to a ninja. I guess I am showing a few signs of early toxemia so they wanted to run a few more tests.</div><div>Test one: collect my own pee in a JUG and keep it in the fridge for 24 hours. Best thing ever, right? </div><div>What makes this worse is this is the THIRD time in my life I've had to do it. Seriously, what human being should have to submit to this torture more than once? A few years ago my right kidney stopped working fully and I had to do it. I endured the miserable 24 hour pee collection and turned it in, only to get a call the next day from the hospital that the lid wasn't screwed on tight enough, and they spilled it, and I had to re-do it for another 24 hours. (Gross. My pee was all over the floor of some lab without me putting it there. Wonder who cleaned it up.....)</div><div>This time, not even Chuck Norris would be able to pry the lid off when I screw it tight.</div><div><br /></div><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/SrFac1JllHI/AAAAAAAAAcU/J2wtBEOVQRQ/s320/IMG_2074.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382182481034581106" /><div style="text-align: center;">They call this beautiful contraption the 'hat.' I'm sick of hats in a whole NEW way now. I pee in it, with the expression shown above. </div><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/SrFadWswJpI/AAAAAAAAAcc/LPcQLmxoKtU/s320/IMG_2071.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382182490040444562" />Then I get to take this pee from the above 'hat' and pour it into my awesome jug. My jug of pee. (Awesome sentence). And then it goes in my fridge.<div><div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_vncnIU-nQNc/SrFad6CNsOI/AAAAAAAAAck/LJKwZnL9YN0/s320/IMG_2072.JPG" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382182499525701858" /><div style="text-align: center;">After the pee test, I go to labor &amp; delivery tomorrow to get blood drawn and the baby monitored for awhile. I am very positive that I am fine.... other than I might not be able to eat anything refridgerated every again.. and will be eating out for a few days.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Also, little awesome boy Heaton is transverse. Still laying completely sideways, torturing his mother in very special ways. That's why I look like I have TWO watermelons in my stomach. Ha!</div><br /></div></div></div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4185005505307986862.post-24170979273899668892009-09-09T18:29:00.000-07:002009-09-09T18:34:45.929-07:00Me and Ninja Chuck Norris<img src="http://photos-a.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs241.snc1/8822_274832190436_816100436_8831112_1506552_n.jpg" /><div>Updates from the recliner: </div><div>Most people wear Superman pajamas. Superman wears Chuck Norris Pajamas.</div><div>Best way to make a beached whale pregnant lady's day: hook me up with Chuck Norris. And Satan's sword.</div><div><br /></div><div>This picture may be my new favorite thing in this world.</div><div><br /></div><div>And yes, I have already gone BEYOND insanity living on this dang recliner. I have started making lists of the cool ninja moves I am going to teach little baby Norris.</div><div>That sounds bad though... no, Chuck Norris is NOT the father. </div><div><br /></div><div>Now that I've reached the point of incoherent rambling, I will stop. I just wanted to share the best picture ever!!</div><div>P.S..... I'm tired of making hats.</div>Evelynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04509088242530114351noreply@blogger.com5